Autumn is my favorite season for several reasons. Mostly because it was my dad’s favorite, too. Not only was his birthday in September, but Hunting Season started then. He said he never remembered the correct date for his birthday because it always came in the middle of hunting season, and he was more excited about that.

So I became excited about hunting, too.

On those magical autumn mornings, we’d get up early and enter the woods before the squirrels started looking for their breakfast. We’d walk as quietly as we could, though acorns continually crunched under our feet. Twigs snagged our pants. Trouncing through the ground cover, the crisp morning air would wrap around my face. My boots would get soaked from the dew. Dad would lead us to a spot—a perfect spot—where we would wait for the squirrels.

That’s how it went—every time. Every magical and perfect time.

No talking. Hunters don’t talk. Instead, we bonded over milk-coffee (mostly milk in my case) and snack crackers or the occasional piece of candy. After all, hunters needed to keep up their strength up as they watched and waited for a good shot.Continue reading →

Would you be bold enough to challenge God with your life? Helen Bancroft did in Lori Roeleveld’s, Red Pen Redemption.

It’s a story of Helen’s self-justification and self-indulgence. She is both hero and villain. I loved her and hated her. I wanted to reach through the pages and shake her by her shoulders, then I wanted to hug her close to protect her. Ironically, it wasn’t until I was closing into the end of the story that I realized I had seen myself—my own life—reflected in parts of this story.

Roeleveld’s use of scripture soothed, guided, and enticed me as a reader. She also expertly offered example after example how Helen tried to look God in the proverbial face, only to blink and turn away. Just as I had tried in the past, and if you dare to read this, you may see yourself, too.

I rarely give five stars ratings. I think five-stars are reserved for mothers to give their children. But this book has what it takes to change lives. A tall order for a piece of fiction. Lori Roeleveld’s, Red Pen Redemption is slated to be a beloved Christmas Season staple for years to come.

Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes when I’m feeling a bit low is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.

I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.

This week is my dad’s birthday. If he wouldn’t have died over thirty-five years ago, he would be eighty-six years young now. Today, he would have had the privilege to celebrate with his children, grandchildren and even great grandchildren.

There would have been cake, I’m certain of that. Even though he never liked anyone fussing over him, he would have appreciated the gesture. Maybe he and I would have made it together, just like the old days. He helped me made my first cake—yellow box cake with chocolate frosting. It was frosted in globs and sat lopsided on the plate, but he told me it was a work of art.

And I believed him.

I’m certain the conversation would have gotten around to hunting. My brothers and I would remind him that he took us all hunting when we were old enough. I can hear him now, saying he didn’t hunt much after we grew up and left home. He’d say it wasn’t the same.Continue reading →

To celebrate Father’s Day, I’m re-posting a blog I shared that exemplified my relationship with my father. I’d love to hear stories from you about the relationship you have (or had) with yours. I pray it was as loving as mine was …

I put my flip flops toward the back of the closet. I stood for ten minutes looking at my closet, forcing myself to accept today’s brutal reality.

It’s time. I can’t put it off any longer. I reach into the closet—to an area I haven’t visited for months. My hand runs over the tops of the hangers positioned on the lower bar. I pause, stroking the fabric. Oh, how I hate this day.

Long pants … today I must wear long pants. I’ve been able to wear capris day after day, week after week because the warmth from the sun had caressed my legs and arms. Arms—I need to wear long sleeves, too! Ugh, can it get any worse?

Oh, this is a sad day.

Driving to work, I had to turn on the heat instead of the AC. I flipped on the defroster to dry the heavy due on the windows from the cool night air. Wipers wipe. Warm air bellows from the vents. And the need to turn on my car’s headlights makes it impossible for me to ignore it … summer is over.

Pulling into the parking at my job, a quick movement catches my eye in a grove of oak trees. Walking toward the trees, I stop, noting the movement is accompanied with chattering. Two—no three—squirrels were scampering around and around tree at break-neck speed. They seemed oblivious to my presence. It was as if the cool morning air had invigorated these little fellas into a raucous game of tag. If I had walked any closer to the trees, I imagined I could see them smiling.

In that moment, I stopped, reflected over other cool mornings when Dad and I watched squirrels scamper through the woods. In a flash I remembered the smells, the feeling of the heady due, and the comfort of the long sleeves.

When had I become so enthralled with capris and flip flops?

No, today isn’t a sad day after all—it’s the first day of the season I wear long pants. And it’s the first time in a long time I’ve been blessed with a memory that reminded me of simpler times.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens Ecclesiastes 3

It must seem that I’ve fallen off the grid … may joined a monastery … become a complete recluse, but none of that is the case. I’ve been writing / editing Ten Days: A Journey Back to God. An excerpt from the book has been published in Hippocampus Magazine. Here’s a link.

It’s official. I’ve signed a contract with Cyle Young at Hartline Literary Agency

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A bit about Robin …

In 2009, Robin founded Renew Ministries, sharing with spiritually- and emotionally-broken men and women that God has a plan for their lives that includes healing. It's not too late! No matter what you've done or how much time has passed, God still loves you and wants a relationship with you.